Bad News
by yonezuu
Summary: The personification of the United States of America is cleared is cleared for deployment after seventy-six years. The nations worry for their fellow country; will the young boy be be okay? Or will hundreds of years of fighting for his country finally break him? DISCONTINUED


_**Before we start, I'd like to say I don't know a lot about the military, so I apologize in advance if I get anything horribly wrong.**_

"Before the meeting comes to an end, there is something I need to say." America said, standing up. The other nations stopped what they were doing as they watched the young nation walked to the front of the table. He studied the confused looks of his colleagues. Giving these types of announcements were always hard for him.

"A week ago, I was cleared for another tour. I'll be leaving next month on the twentieth." A lump formed in America's throat. Holding back tears, he swallowed hard and continued with his announcement, "As you all know, if I suffer any fatal wounds or return with any illnesses that would affect my decisions, a human will fill in until I can work again. That said, if there are no complications, my government may be inclined to send me back."

Alfred's tone was overly formal by his standards, as if someone had wrote it for him, which was most likely the case. With grief swimming on his face, England rose from his chair and walked over to his younger brother. America embraced his father figure, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face into the crook of his neck. Other nations got up and went to comfort the young country; some stayed in their seats in shock or disbelief. It had been seventy-six years since Alfred had been on a tour, and the last time he came home from war… It had not been pretty.

"Thank you for the notice. We wish you the best of luck." Germany said, "If no one has anything to add, I believe this concludes our meeting."

* * *

Alfred unlocked the door to his apartment and slammed the door behind him. The wood cracked under the impact, sending bits of the frame to the floor. Alfred looked back at his front door. The mirror that was situated in the top middle of the door had a single, exaggerated crack down the middle. Alfred let the lump in his throat turn into a whimper, some tears, and before he could stop himself he was on the floor of his living room sobbing. He didn't want to go back. He had seen enough bloodshed and death to last a lifetime. After a few minutes, Alfred got up from the floor. Still hiccuping from sobbing, he made his way to the bathroom. He peeled off his suit and looked in the mirror. Scars littered his body. Some faded, some pink and risen, some fine and white. Some were hard to see. Some were the kinds you can't see.

Alfred took a deep breath and looked at the scared little boy in the mirror.

* * *

England had insisted that he stay for the next few weeks. It certainly helped America to keep his emotions in check. Breaking down in front of another nation- his father figure- was not something that would happen before he had even left the country. Multiple countries came to say goodbye, some cried, others didn't, either way it was one of the worst things about being deployed.

The last goodbye was always the worst.

Seychelles had found a flight to D.C, and was taking a train up to New York that night. She was spending the night at his house to see him off, along with Canada, England, and France.

The family had driven to a military base, where a small plane was flying a new troop to the middle east. The three stood in front of Alfred, now dressed in a combat uniform. A hat covered his buzzed hair. He set his jaw square and looked at his family. He watched as tears consumed Michelle's eyes and overflowed, flooding her cheeks. He let his shoulders relax. His expression softened as he let his backpack slide off his shoulders and make a thump on the concrete. The personification of Seychelles ran to America, not bothering to slowdown. The tan girl landed in Alfred's arms with an umph.

"Please don't go." Michelle said, her voice wavering.

"Hey now." Alfred said, he pulled back to look into his sister's eyes, "It's not like I won't come back." He took a deep breath to try to stop his tears from spilling over. He let go of Michelle and made his way over to Francis. He looked his father-figure in the eye and gave him a firm handshake, pulling him in and ending their goodbye with a firm hug. As soon as he let go of Francis and turned to face Arthur, his other father-figure skipped the handshake and went straight for a hug. The smaller man wrapped himself tightly around America. It only took a moment for Alfred to return the sudden affection. He wrapped his arms around Arthur and allowed the smell of fancy tea and burned scones to fill his nostrils. England buried his face into his son's uniform and drew in a sharp breath.

"Come back to us in one piece, pet." He commanded. He pulled back and wiped the tears from his eyes, sniffling a few times before straightening his back and setting his shoulders square.

Alfred faced his brother. Canada had been crying silently for the last few minutes, but he really started to sob as soon as Alfred pulled him in for a bear hug. Alfred let hot tears run down his face as he tightened his arms around his brother.

"I'm going to miss you." Matthieu sobbed.

"This isn't my first rodeo. I'll come home able to say howdy before you know it."

The brothers gave each other one more squeeze before they pulled away. Alfred picked up his backpack and walked towards the plane. Stopping once to look back at his family before disappearing into the metal bird.

* * *

Alfred looked at the rows of seats in the airplane. Four seat rows extended to the back of the plane. The plush seats also lined the walls of the plane, making it possible for even more people to be transported to another country. Alfred scanned the nearly full plane for a seat, choosing one on the door wall. He was the last one to enter the plane, which started to take off not even ten minutes after he put on his seatbelt.

"It's an interesting family you got there." A soldier sitting next to Alfred said. He extended a tan hand, "Louis J. Caballero."

"Yeah, I guess we are." Alfred replied, taking the hand and giving it a firm shake, "Alfred F. Jones. Where 'ya from?"

"Originally? Southern Florida, second generation immigrant from Cuba, you?"

"New York."

Louis scratched his black, buzzed hair and studied the young boy adjacent from him, "You look pretty young, kid. First tour?"

"I guess I am pretty young. I'm nineteen." Alfred said. He decided to leave the second question unanswered, "You?"

"Thirty-two."

* * *

America, along with everyone else on the small plane he had spent the last day in, arrived in a base in the middle of nowhere. 'Small' was an understatement. The platoon looked at the three large tents. Then at the two outhouses next to it. Then at the few worn wooden boxes used as make-shift showers. Metal pipes ran up the back to supply water, and cheap rubber matting was used as flooring.

"This is it boys and girls!" Alfred cheered with fake enthusiasm. He walked to the front of the pack and turned on his heel to face his comrades, "Our home for the next year!"

* * *

Boy howdy, glasses and dusty places sure didn't mix well.

' _The flight was fine, it took a long time though. I got to get to know some people though, that's always a good thing. Thanks in advance for the packages, but a cloth to clean my glasses would be super rad!_

 _Signing out!_

 _Alfred F. Jones'_

He stared back at the slip of paper. It wasn't much, but he did the best he could with a quarter of a sheet someone had spared him and the pen he found on the bottom of his bag.

The tents in the camp held six bunk bed, twelve men (or women, but they were in their own tent) in each tent. Alfred had decided on the top bunk in the far corner of the room. His bunkmate was rather reserved and standoffish, though.

"I'm Forrest, Forrest Gump." America said, extending his hand.

"Kyle Ray." The short, but rather strong-looking, ginger man said firmly. He gave Alfred a look and quickly went back to work.

"I really worked hard on his accent though! Haven't you ever seen Forest Gump?!" The young nation whined, "You could at least be a little more friendly."

Kyle whipped around and stepped close to Alfred, their chests nearly touching, "Who did you steal your uniform from?"

"Huh?" Alfred blinked a few times. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, doing his best to make himself appear bigger. Some soldiers had stopped what they were doing to see what how the event would unfold.

"Short answer? I didn't." He said. He tried his best to keep his voice in a cheerful tone. The less drama the better.

"What's the long answer, Lieutenant."

The remaining soldiers turned their heads in disbelief, no way could this _child_ be such a high rank. Alfred sighed and took a step back and faced the crowd.

"I'll just use this time to introduce myself then." America started, "My name is Alfred F. Jones. I'm a Lieutenant, and your commanding officer. You may call me Jones, or if 'ya really fancy, Lieutenant Jones. Physically, I am nineteen years old- in reality I am 239 years of age- I'm actually surprised no one has said anything yet, but maybe it's because my hair is buzzed now, so I may look a bit different." Alfred took in a deep breath and looked Kyle in the eye, "My name is Alfred F. Jones, and I am the personification of the United States of America."

 _ **Hey guys! I plan to update weekly, it really depends on my schedule.. heh.. I have chapter two and three (kind of) types up though! If you enjoy this please feel free to leave a review, it really motivated me to write the next chapter.**_

 _ **note: this is somewhat like Alfred from my story, Snowed In, but it is not SnowedIn!Alfred. All experiences SI!Alfred has (or had) is no way connected in this story**_


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